


so i take them back

by hiraethie



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Childhood Friends, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Songfic, Swearing, Unrequited Love, heavily inspired by habit by seventeen, just bittersweet in general, lots of poetry involved, poet!minghao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethie/pseuds/hiraethie
Summary: Minghao never heard the sound of heartbreak inside his chest. There was never the one moment when he felt like he had lost all the air inside his lungs or one when he felt a pressure so hard inside his chest he needed to close his eyes for a moment.The pain is a friend, and since the first moment he has loved Junhui more than he should, the sound of his heart falling down to a hundred thousand pieces is a symphony, each shard strums a string of his heart, one by one.
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	so i take them back

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! 
> 
> so this is my baby and i am so happy i am finally able to put it out there!
> 
> as you may see, this is a work Heavily inspired by the song Habit By SEVENTEEN, and [this](https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2017/05/seventeen-habit-ibbeoleus) is where i got the translation from. also, hope you can appreciate the severe amount of poetry i put here. the title, for instance, is from Seaside Improvisation by Richard Siken.
> 
> lastly, big thanks to my friends who helped me with this piece by hyping me up, prompting me with the idea altogether and helping me polish it afterwards. i truly, truly, truly love you guys. my love stories would not be the same without you all in it.
> 
> i hope you get to enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. my goal is to make people feel something, so please let me know if i was able to accomplish it!!

_Even after you ruin me for any other,_

_I cannot regret you. Even as I cleave_

_the flesh of wanting from the bone,_

_I hope the night sky is pretty_

_wherever you are._

_(Unrequited -_ [ _Sincerely, Joanna_ ](https://sincerelyjoanna-blog-blog.tumblr.com/post/49402368225/amp) _)_

  
  
  
  


The silence is comfortable like it hasn't been since he left. Other than his classes, there is not much noise inside his own room. He doesn't talk much neither comes outside to see how life is existing, completely unaware of _his_ own existence. It is somewhat comforting knowing life goes on no matter how much his thoughts try to hold him back from moving forward — those which have succeeded most of the time.

But this is different. They are holding hands for the first time in four weeks, familiar and warm. Minghao pretends he doesn't feel the pressure of Junhui's calloused fingers drawing small circles on the back of his hand, instead, he looks at the stars thinking he how he wishes he could count every single one of them and gulps down more of his strawberry juice. 

"I love you," Junhui babbles like it is nothing, throwing the words at the wind engulping their bodies. Midnight is close and they aren't wearing jackets to protect them from the cold, no protection at all.

Minghao fights the need to sigh when Junhui calls his name. He feels the known eyes on him in spite of choosing to look forward, appreciating the view of students who have just finished their daily classes exiting the building and going back to the dorms or straight up to their houses. "I know you do, you've told me before."

 _I love you too._ He can't manage to let the words come out of his own mouth, at least not right now. He drinks the artificial drink again to swallow the bitter taste the unpronounced words leave in his mouth. 

"No, like, Minghao," Junhui calls out, the same way he has always done, "look at me," and Minghao does. He blames himself for wanting to touch the black hair, to put back in place what the weather messed up. He misses the old hair colour, though. The raven one is a reminder of what he left behind — not even a month has passed and the world is already molding itself to accompany the lack of him. "I _love_ you."

He feels his heart dropping, he feels fifteen again just for a second, until he realises the tone of Junhui's voice — the one he knows so well, the one he can identify the smallest changes of octaves right as they happen — does not match the look in his eyes. He almost laughs, not at Junhui, at _himself._ At least this remains the same. 

"No, Junnie. You don't love me." 

The silence is still comfortable when he turns his gaze to the stars above them again.

⏩

Minghao is seven when he moves in. The lightest of boxes feel heavy in his arms, yet he wants to help his parents, so he keeps dragging them inside. He gets to know his new room, loving the light green on the walls and the big bed which is already waiting for him there. His father helps him take a peak out of his window when he realises he is tip-toeing, still not tall enough to look outside.

He sees a boy dragging a skateboard to the garden in the house right next to his new one. He hears his dad saying he should talk to him later, that they might become good friends. 

Minghao does hope so, _his skateboard is awesome_.

⏩

"we made plans to take over the world together

and build a little home where we could be free,

i was so waiting to be myself with you 

when we were still seventeen."

⏩

The thing is that Junhui has never done anything for Minghao to fall in love with him. 

He treats him as anyone else would treat their best friend. They hug when they need comfort and hold hands while they whisper out all the bad things the voices in their heads tell them. They have a shared playlist which is named after nothing more than some silly emojis they use when they want to show each other new songs because they couldn't agree on a serious name — Minghao wanted a quote from their favourite book, Junhui suggested the first line of Bee Movie. They sit far from each other in class in order to _'focus more, and we won't be able to do that if I keep talking to you all the time',_ in Junhui's words. Minghao tells him to fuck off.

In all honesty, Minghao falls for Junhui without getting a hang of his feelings, little by little, over the years, without a warning — not that he would have been more cautious about it if he had received one at all — holding onto every wrap of a chocolate they shared or every ticket of films they watched together at the movies.

He doesn't realise he is in love until he is fifteen. Junhui is sleeping by his side with his own pillow and a fluffy purple duvet his mom made him bring along — he is joining Minghao's family on a trip to the countryside, his backpack full of clothes ready by the door of the room — and Minghao wakes up from a dream exactly when his unconscious drowsy mind makes Junhui's lips almost touch his own. 

⏩

" _Woop_."

Minghao feels himself getting pale when he catches a body going through his window messily, landing on his room with a loud thump. There is a Wen Junhui right there, gesturing his hands to his own self expecting compliments. He receives curses. 

"I can't fucking believe you, you know? There is a door downstairs, you can use it like a normal human being, maybe?"

Junhui dusts off his pyjamas and takes his unmatching flashing sneakers off. Minghao wishes he also had a pair like those, twinkling blue and red lights. "The tree is there for a reason. Also, your mom wouldn't let me in. It is two in the morning, Haohao."

"She would if you had asked me to ask her to let you sleep over," he shifts away, making space for his best friend to lay by his side, closing the black notebook in his hands. 

"Hey, what are you writing?"

Junhui tries to sneak a peak before Minghao can put it away, the usual curiosity of a fourteen-year-old boy, but he doesn't succeed. "Something I will show you only if it is finished."

"Come on, Hao! I wanna read it, you are so good," he stretches his body to steal it from Minghao to no avail.

"Shut up, banana head. If my parents wake up, we are _busted,_ " Junhui complies with a frown and turns off the bedside lamp. They lie down in the dark, bodies turned towards each other.

"But seriously, I really wanna read it."

Minghao beams, "You will when it is done, I told you. But don't try to spy on my notebook, I am serious, Junnie."

"I won't," their hands are joined by their pinkies. 

"Why did you come here, though? It is truly dangerous to do that."

"Had a nightmare," Junhui simply says, closing his eyes. Minghao knows better than asking more right now, he can try in the morning.

⏩

_"Haohao, are you busy?"_

"It depends, what do you want?"

_"Leave the window open, pretty please."_

Junhui hangs up the phone just like that and is already waiting by the window when Minghao gets up from his desk to open it, "Hey."

Minghao tosses himself onto his bed, "Please don't tell me you forgot to do your homework again and now you don't have time to finish it, so you want to copy mine."

"You think too poorly of me, it makes me sad sometimes," Junhui laughs, throwing himself on top of Minghao, who pushes him away with a groan to keep a grin from taking place on his face. "I actually have something to tell you."

Minghao realises he is serious when he sits crossing his legs, "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

Junhui looks nervous for the first time, doesn't say anything right away. He sighs, pushing all of the air out of his lungs. Minghao waits for him, sticks his hands out and he holds it tightly. "You won't laugh, right? I mean, I know you won't but please tell me you won't," he waits for confirmations and Minghao gives it to him. "I think I am in love."

Minghao gets the definitive confirmation he has a heart when he feels it beating against his ribcage so furiously it seems it wants to fly away. He nods, "Alright."

"With a boy," _so am I,_ "from our school. One year older."

His breathing hitches and he tries his best to hide the lump in his throat, keeping a blank face and nodding as Junhui launches himself onto him. 

Junhui still doesn't know Minghao himself likes boys too, but right now doesn't seem like a good time to let him know. Junhui falls asleep — not before telling Minghao how much he loves him, to which Minghao truthfully parrots — on his bed when he stops crying his eyes out. Minghao reaches out to take the hair out of his forehead before getting himself ready to sleep. 

Minghao feels like a goner, he is so sure he is one.

⏩

Maybe not realising _it_ earlier takes away the thrill of thinking he is some wicked being, the guilt some of his friends feel is not something he can quite grasp. He validates the ones who are crying nonetheless, telling them how loved they are, no matter who they are or who they love. 

_Love,_ he thinks. Junhui is his first love, he is sure of it. It's a feeling too pure to be a wicked feeling. His mom agrees when he tells her by the age of sixteen. 

Nothing changes, they still can sleep in the same bed when Junhui is bored of his own.

⏩

Minghao is alone for the night, reading something that may be a little bit too intense, too emotional, just to feel his heart beat just as fast as it beats when he is with _someone else_. 

He realises what he is doing, _projecting_ , why is he doing so, when the character inside his mind no longer has piercing blue eyes and dark waves. Instead, he looks a lot more like the comforting shade of brown irises and freshly dyed pink strands of hair which can be occasionally found glued onto his own clothes. Before switching off the lights he finds one on his pillow and shakes the idea of a happily ever after off of his head.

⏩

Minghao never heard the sound of heartbreak inside his chest. There was never the one moment when he felt like he had lost all the air inside his lungs or one when he felt a pressure so hard inside his chest he needed to close his eyes for a moment. 

The pain is a friend, and since the first moment he has loved Junhui more than he should, the sound of his heart falling down to a hundred thousand pieces is a symphony, each shard strums a string of his heart, one by one.

⏩

_You (20:31): are you coming tonight?_

_文俊辉 (21:04): sorry, haohao, i can't tonight_

And Minghao knows why. He chooses a new book to distract himself with and ignores the usual pain that comes with the text message.

⏩

People say touch is the universal language, but Junhui and Minghao understand each other between the lines. They grow up exchanging side glances during their classes and eyeing each other when they are caught sneaking out to have secret sleepovers. All their friendship is built around the side jokes they tell each other with their eyes, the ones only they know and no one else has ever needed to.

 _사이에_ , Minghao learns once while studying Korean as a hobby, _between._ He looks at the way Junhui's eyes shine when he tells him all the intricate details of his first ever date. _사이_ meaning _gap, space_ , is the word that comes into his head while he hears everything about crossed smiles and sharing ice cream, everything about light touches and walking home together, pecks on the lips that look so innocent but how Junhui wishes it had been more. His smile says it all, it is the first time he has seen this kind of feature on his best friend's face. It hurts to admit he wears it perfectly.

People say touch is the universal language, and he is once tempted to believe them when he realises how natural it is to have Junhui's fingers intertwined with his while he spills his first love adventures into the night. He cannot bring himself to believe them, though, when it sinks that only humming along and dismissively asking for more details without actually wanting to know them is the creation of a _gap_ on its own, except this time Junhui is too lost on his fairy tale to notice the wall being built around Minghao. _As he should be_ , as Minghao should be, happy for his friend's happiness, but instead, he knows he is only smiling because he is endeared by the most stunning smile he has ever laid his eyes on. 

It is a lie to say he doesn't feel selfish, but there is a certainty vanishing through him and it becomes louder than the accusation inside his head. Minghao thinks people are wrong, he is sure of it. They are wrong because linked hands don't dismiss the space between them, they don't hold the power to convey all his heart to Junhui, and he wouldn't let the _touch_ do that even if it could. Right now, he sticks to letting his eyes do the job, looking at Junhui like he is the whole world and more, letting his shiny orbs say everything he wants to tell Junhui, blinking twice whenever their stares meet each other, because he can't bring himself to let him know, and Junhui doesn't quite read between his lines this time. 

Maybe Junhui is not as fluent as Minghao thinks he is.

⏩

"Haohao, I have something to ask you."

Junhui is on the floor of his bedroom, Minghao is taking over his bed. It is Saturday and birds can be heard from outside, it comes in handy to have a relaxing white noise. 

Minghao doesn't think too much about the statement as he continues to draw an unkept circle on his History notebook, the homework long forgotten. It is too hot to bear to process information properly, both of them having given up after half an hour of studying together. "Shoot it."

But there is no question thrown at him for the next minutes. When he finally decides to look up, Junhui is frowning, looking out of the window, closing and opening his hands repeatedly. It is Minghao's turn to frown. "Junnie, are you alright?"

He gets up with a sigh, their eyes don't meet as he sits on the bed. Minghao thinks he seems absolutely troubled when he leans closer to search for his look and Junhui pulls away without touching him. "Hey, it's okay. You can tell me everything, you know that, right?"

"There is," he starts, his voice trembling and low, "something that, how can I say this?" He plays with the pencil in his hand and focuses on it like his life depended on it. "Some things were pointed out to me by some people."

 _Some people_. There are many things this may mean. Minghao feels his heart rate quickening on his chest trying to find the meaning of those words, freaking out wishing they don't mean the first thing that comes to his head. "Hm, yes?"

"I mean, it sounds silly, I had never even considered this as a possibility before it all, I mean, it wouldn't be true, would it? How could it be? There is no way it is, but I can't stop thinking about it, so I'll just give it a go, I guess?" Minghao gets more and more anxious as each questioning stutter comes out of Junhui's mouth. He can feel his stomach turning around, sweat forming on his nape. He can't interrupt his antics, he can't find it within himself to stretch out his hands, either, afraid Junhui simply won't take them this time. "Is there, like, a possibility of you having feelings for me?"

Meteor. 

Minghao wishes for a meteor. 

He wishes he could be a dinosaur, dying with a loud crash or being covered by dust so he would never see the light of the sun ever again. He is sure he suffocates on his own lack of oxygen at some point and he feels like he has fainted a thousand and forty times, but he hasn't. The world is also obviously not hit by a meteor, maybe Junhui's eyes looking at him — probably because he has turned purple — have the same effect on him.

He stands up and he is _panting_ , no longer the owner of his own mind when he starts gathering all of his school stuff. He hears Junhui calling his name after he is done, the only thing other than a buzz on his ears he can listen to. He tries to shut it out, but he is called again. "Junnie, please, don't come near me right now."

"Minghao, I—"

The lack of nickname stings, "You have an answer already, don't you?" There is a lot of bark and bite, and at this point, he doesn't know if it is all for Junhui or for himself, but he can't manage to find out as he focuses on not crying his eyes out. "How did you even, who _told_ you this? No one even _knows_ this, Junhui. No one is supposed to, exceptionally _you_."

His voice is small as Minghao puts on his shoes, "My boyfriend and I were talking and—"

He has had enough, "I can't believe it, Junnie, I _really_ can't."

"Minghao, I know you want to go home and never talk about it again, but please know this doesn't change anything, I still love you the same."

He feels a punch on his guts, all the air being _finally_ knocked out of his lungs. For a moment he touches his stomach and looks at his hands just to be sure it does not come out tinted with red. He does the same to the corner of his mouth. "Don't say it, please don't say this."

Silence.

Breathing again.

"I can't quite talk to you right now, Junhui. I need to go."

Minghao crawls out of the window.

⏩

Junhui isn't guilty, Minghao knows that. It's not his fault he doesn't reciprocate Minghao's feelings, he shouldn't feel the need to, his feelings are his own, the only thing that is truly his and no one else's. 

He wants to stretch out his arm to catch his black leather notebook and let all his tears paint the pages with words as his hands write faster than his conscious mind is able to process. 

Junhui is not guilty, Minghao repeats in his own head, it's not his fault. Just for today he needs to blame someone else to make the heartbreak feel more palatable, because he can't _stand_ the taste of abstract on his tongue right now, not when it's raining outside and he knows Junhui is not only a window away.

⏩

_I want to tell you that I want to see you. Now that you're gone, the habit of calling you, I live, unable to erase it because of you._

⏩

The day goes by as it has always gone. Minghao wakes up with heavy eyelids and looks out of the window. His eyes are directed at the garden of his neighbour's house instead of the window just across his own. He doesn't try to see if Junhui has already woken up and there is a small pain on his chest for that. 

He greets his parents while they eat breakfast together and smiles hoping his teeth can avert their look from the bags under his eyes. He goes to the nearest supermarket alone to buy soap and potatoes because his mom asks him to. He walks, deciding to leave his bicycle behind together with his so familiar earphones. He has a hoodie on to cover up his disheveled hair even though the sun shines hard enough to heat up the skin of his face, at least it is not enough to make him sweat more than usual.

At the cashier he gets two lollipops before he could stop his own hands from moving automatically and doesn't say anything to prevent the lady to scan them when she does so. He walks back to his home in deep breaths, but his pace is slow and he is not tired. Minghao tries to look at the people who pass by him, but the grey of the pavement is much more interesting, it helps with the thoughts that come and go.

He pretends not to look at Junhui's window as he enters his own house, welcoming the feeling of being alone in the living room for the first time in months. Of course they don't spend every single moment together, but the feeling is harder to deal with than the condition.

The truth is that Minghao loves being alone, it happens that his definition of _alone_ is to be alone _with_ Junhui. He has never known something that wasn't this — at least ever since he's old enough to properly remember — he has never _wished_ for something that wasn't this, has never had to learn how to _feel_ loneliness, but being in his presence hurts too much so he doesn't answer any of the calls when he touches his phone for the first time in two days.

⏩

He has his little black notebook on his table, one hand keeping it open, the other holding a pencil so hard he can't quite feel his fingers. 

He writes haphazard words and scribes them immediately after. He circles a good sentence with the same pencil. There are arrows pointing to other parts of the sheet and small drawings which don't aim to be anything in particular.

Minghao hates this feeling. All he has known since he was a child is to write, no matter if it is a poem about flowers to his mom, if it is a song made based on a movie he watched, an article about social injustice, a poem about the purest dark brown eyes he has ever seen, or a _damn_ school assignment. He has taught himself how to write and how to love his own self through his words. He sees the world through his own poetry and he cannot listen to a melody without imagining what is the story behind it. It is only right that not being able to write about his own heartbreak feels _maddening._

He doesn't want to give into that saying about feeling it less in order to write it more he read once, he can't bring himself to believe that he — a self-declared poet, and a very good one, thank you so much — can't write about _his_ own feelings because they are a lot to measure, a lot to handle. 

Feelings he has _always_ written about, for further notice. He has been writing poetry about damn Wen Junhui since he was fifteen, platonic ones even earlier than that, for fuck's sake, it is not possible that the sudden outing of his love made him unable to put sadness on paper. For what he is concerned, it should make it _easier_. There is no way he will let his feelings be his new exquisite self-destruction method.

Exhausted, Minghao turns the page and writes what he could get out of his chest out of the graphite mess he made and welcomes it into two stanzas, seven verses in total. They are good for the time being, he reasons, so he closes the notebook, knowing that he will read his past poems about how pretty his best friend is if he doesn't.

⏩

_you keep meeting somebody and laugh out loud, but nothing changes._

_when I think of you laughing somewhere, I feel like I am losing, I feel like an idiot._

⏩

_sometimes, just sometimes_

_you love me too._

_those times hurt the most._

_(Unfollowing You - Komal Kapoor)_

⏩

Minghao takes longer than he should showering this night. He scrubs his scalp harder than necessary while the scent of his shampoo fills up the foggy air around him. It is comforting in a way when the exterior mirrors the interior and he can blend with the condensation to forget what he wanted to forget, brain too loud for his own liking. 

It is still 4 in the afternoon when he gets to his room and takes a step behind, stopping by the door. It is normal for them to come into each other's room unannounced, he just didn't expect to see Junhui so close to his desk with his black notebook in hands. 

Minghao wants to shout and yank it away from him, he wants to ask Junhui to leave through the window where he came from because he is not ready for _this_ part of interior to be exterior yet, and he is completely aware Junhui knows this is what he wants to do when he puts the object back to where it was, he knows because this is what they are used to, reading each other. 

Junhui sits at the end of Minghao's bed, places his hands on his knees, sees Minghao gritting his teeth and holding his breath, "I came to check if you're alright. You haven't replied to anything since Saturday and you didn't go to class yesterday, so—"

Minghao wants to snort, but he doesn't, there's no air inside his lungs to be let out, anyway, "I am, Junnie, you don't need to worry. Wasn't feeling okay, but I am now."

He can feel his shoulders tensioning more and more with each step he takes while Junhui's gaze does not follow his movements. Minghao puts his clothes on knowing there won't be eyes spying on him and gets under his covers without saying anything else.

"I am sorry for taking the notebook, I know I should not be prying into your things."

 _You shouldn't, you know that, and you still did._ It is all stuck inside his throat and Minghao still gulps it down all the venom he _could_ let out, but won't. _It is not his fault,_ he reminds himself again when he closes his eyes and does it again when he sighs quietly.

"But," he tries cautiously, "I saw something, _you keep meeting somebody, and laugh out loud—"_

"Junhui, _stop_ ," Minghao pleads, he knows he looks desperate, he knows Junhui probably wants to tell him he is doing great because he is his best friend and he always praises his poetry, but he _cannot_ stand _him_ of all people reciting _this_ one out loud. "It is not finished yet, and please, just, _don't_."

His voice is small. Minghao knows he knows it is not finished, he saw all the scribbles and the terrible handwriting if he looked for as long as Minghao thinks he did. Junhui nods, but his eyes don't leave Minghao and they _burn_ his whole self in a way he wishes they didn't, which is how Minghao knows Junhui understood there is no way they will be actually talking about everything, not right now, at least. Not anytime soon, if the decision is only in his hands. 

Minghao expects him to leave, almost _wants, pleads_ him to leave because the hot temperature behind his eyes may explode at any moment and he doesn't want Junhui to see him vulnerable knowing he is the cause of said vulnerability. He stands up and walks to the other side of the bed, but Junhui kicks his green slippers out of his feet, pulls the duvet and sneaks himself under it.

Junhui doesn't leave, and he would never leave, Minghao knows that. He knows it because they have been best friends since they were seven, and it seems like nothing will ever be able to change it. He knows it because Junhui is sitting right beside him on his own bed now as they have been doing since they started being close enough to have sleepovers every week. He knows it because he sees the cell phone balanced between Junhui's knees and some random video ready to be played, it might be a movie too. He knows it because Junhui smiles at him and Minghao returns the gesture with a considerably smaller one, but he still does, because there is no way he can keep himself from smiling when looking at Junhui, no matter how many tears he is holding back. 

"Can I hold your hand?"

Minghao hears after several minutes of the animation going on and his hand clenches around itself, maybe to represent the way his heart shrinks inside his chest. He holds it on his belly, under the duvets, "Too soon, Junnie."

He knows it because he can feel the unusual ten-centimeter distance between their bodies even when he knows Junhui will not leave even when Minghao is not ready to let him in completely again, when he cannot _bear_ to feel Junhui's palm against his own like they are so used to do. Not yet, too soon. 

Minghao also knows they will have to talk about _it_ at some point, since when a secret is said out loud, it is not only one's own anymore, it is also the universe's to decide what can and what cannot happen with it, and when a secret is shared with somebody else, it is also theirs to decide what to do with the information.

"Okay, I will still be here when you're ready to do so."

It should be comforting. There is the usual smile on Junhui's voice and Minghao is grateful for that, so he squeezes his own hand in a way that it hurts. The thing is that Minghao doesn't want Junhui to do anything with the information he has, because doing something about it means things will change and Minghao can't accept things changing. Instead of answering, he pretends he can focus on the movie when he wants so badly to lose his eyes on Junhui's moles. He can't do it, though. He knows Junhui is very much aware of where Minghao's attention is headed to.

⏩

Math class is starting in minutes, so Minghao rushes to the classroom and sits on his desk. He has been getting lunch alone these past days, not because his friends didn't try to reach out if they happened to realise he wasn't at his best, rather than that, he much prefered to be left alone with his earphones listening to music and not babbling a single word throughout the school day. 

Minghao is one of those people who can take some time to heal, and healing is not made easier by a sleepover with the person you love with an addition of getting to see them being lovey-dovey with someone else. Minghao is a lot of things, a masochist isn't one of them. Besides, he has known Junhui for way too long to know he would ask his boyfriend to go away whenever he is around now that he knows things, and that is not how it should be. This whole situation is altogether what he had been trying to prevent. 

He searches for a notebook inside his backpack, pulling it out by the spiral binding when he finds it. He is caught by surprise when a sheet of paper flies out of it, hitting the ground. He takes it in his hands, unfolds it, sucks in a breath.

_I feel my lips dry_

_the lips that used to call you so much_

_I realised then, like a habitual saying_

_that I desperately looked for you as I called for you_

_I want to embrace you like I did then_

_and tell you that I want to smile_

He turns it around.

_"I couldn't stop thinking about the poetry in your notebook, I'm so sorry about it. You can ignore it if you want to, pretend it never happened, but I want to help you with it. I'm sorry again."_

He looks at the door for the sake of taking his eyes anywhere other than the paper, regrets it when he catches Junhui talking to _someone_ by the said classroom door. As expected, he doesn't spare a glance at him, focused on his conversation. Minghao can't help but notice the way he unconsciously responds to the innocent touch on his arm with his whole body, and he is sure his eyes are shining the way they always do.

Minghao snorts, unable to stop himself. He wants to laugh, cry his eyes and lungs out, run out of the classroom while bumping on the lovebirds by the door. Instead, he drinks all the liquid inside his water bottle at once. He puts the paper inside the bag again, feeling that if he holds it for a little longer, it will ignite spontaneously or he will be the one to destroy it, and such a good piece of writing can't be teared down — Minghao needs to give Junhui that.

When he looks up again, the teacher is already in the room, people are quiet again. Minghao, who has always been too sensitive, too observant, feels eyes on the back of his head during the class. He doesn't look back.

⏩

_I know that I don't own you,_

_and perhaps I never will,_

_so my anger when you're with her,_

_I have no right to feel._

_I know that you don't owe me,_

_and I shouldn't ask for more;_

_I shouldn't feel so let down,_

_all the times you don't call._

_What I feel— I shouldn't show you,_

_so when you're around I wont;_

_I know I've no right to feel it—_

_but it doesn't mean I don't._

_(Just Friends - Lang Leav)_

⏩

"You shouldn't have done that, you know?" He says when the lights are switched on.

" _Jesus_."

Minghao giggles for the first time in a while, as long as he can remember, "Nah, only me. Xu Minghao."

Junhui rests his backpack on his chair and stands there, looking unnatural in his own room, not knowing how to proceed. Minghao taps the floor in front of him to indicate he allows proximity, Junhui complies.

"Didn't think you would come around so early," the voice inside Minghao's head wants to be mean and ask if he had any other plans, but he brushes the angsty teenager off. It is none of his business, firstly, but secondly, this is not something he would actually tell Junhui. "But I am very glad you did."

"I think we need to talk, properly talk, I mean." Junhui agrees. "Movies and sleepovers are great, but this," he takes the sheet of paper he had left strategically near his legs and gives it to Junhui, who recognises it without the need to read it all, "this is not that great. I can give you that you write very well — and I am serious about this — but maybe it is a bit too much for us."

 _Us_. He wants to punch himself on the face simply for letting a fucking pronoun slip. 

Junhui looks small, also searches Minghao's eyes like he is craving for them, which makes him a little dizzy. "I said you could ignore it if you wanted to."

"That's the problem, Junnie. I can't ignore it. There are some things that no matter how much you want to just brush under the rug and forget about its existence altogether, you simply cannot do that."

He knows he is not talking specifically about the poetry anymore, Junhui does too. He continues, "I think I have some explanation to do, so please let me."

"Before you start," he reaches out to hold Minghao's hand, but Minghao feels himself pulling away while almost jumping. Junhui retracts, but resumes as if nothing happened, "I need you to know I really meant that the other day. I know I could have approached it better, and I don't blame you for freaking out, but I meant it, mean it still. Nothing will change between us, you're my one and only best friend and I," he stops himself, Minghao is glad he does so, but guilt fills in his whole body. "You know it."

Minghao nods slowly. He does, he knows it all too well. He also wants to say it, but the words are heavy, so he swallows them.

"There are some things I need to get straight," he looks at Junhui pressing his lips together and knows he wants to say _I am not_ , as they always do, and needs to bite down a laugh, remaining serious. "I don't blame you. I never did, never will, would never blame you. I have always known you wouldn't like me back in _that_ way, and it is okay. There were days it was okayer, others I just really wanted to cry while hugging my pillow, but my pillow smells like you, Junnie, did you know that?"

Minghao sighs as the words come out, maybe he didn't mean to say this one out loud but things can never go exactly as planned, "And this is not bad, I like it. That's my point, fuck the romantic feelings, they will go away with time, but you won't, at least I don't want you to." It is a lot to say out loud, he needs a break, but does not comply to the need, "So, yes, Junhui, the assumption is right, as you might have figured out, and I do have the biggest crush on you, I write poetry about you as you may _damn_ _well_ know, and I think I might even let you read them in case you'd like. I don't want you to break up with your boyfriend because I know he makes you damn happy," _because I love the way he makes your eyes lit up too fucking much, because I love all of you in all the ways possible._ "But I still want to be your best friend. I will never push anything on you, _I could never_ , but if you're okay with it, I just want things to stay the same."

He finally reaches out for his hands when he catches Junhui is about to cry, "And I am not mad about the poetry, alright? I am not mad about anything at all. I am not mad with you, so I am sorry I reacted like that the other day. It was too much to deal with, but I didn't mean to hurt you, I am truly sorry."

"There is nothing to be sorry about, I get you, Haohao." The nickname is back, the one he is used to be called so much. "I actually wanna hug you, may I _please_?"

"Idiot," Minghao says with no bite at all when he throws his body against Junhui's. It feels like coming back home, it doesn't hurt like he thought it would. It is not perfect, though. He knows things will take a while to get back on track, if they ever do. He understands how much these kinds of news can shake up one's world, but they are willing to try, and that's what matters, he holds onto that. "Hey, actually," he continues when they leave each other, "I need to ask you something."

"Anything, shoot it," he cleans the tears out of his eyes and then reaches for Minghao's cheeks to dry him with his thumb.

Minghao freezes, "Okay, hm," he manages to say, "we will go slow, would that be okay?"

"Yeah, sorry." Junhui seems guilty, Minghao tries his best not to cringe at himself for being the cause of it. He dismisses it. "May I ask you just one thing before?" Minghao complies. "When did it start?"

 _Oh, when did it start?_ He doesn't know when it did, he knows when he realised it. 

"Dreamt about kissing you once while you slept by my side when we were fifteen." Minghao says it as nonchalantly as he would wish good morning to his parents before heading to school. Junhui gulps down and nods, there is no answer he could give to that.

"Alright, well," he takes his small black notebook out of his pocket, gets up from the floor and sits by Junhui's desk. "Would you please bring the sheet here? We have something to write."

"What do you mean _we_?" Junhui says eagerly when he is already finding space to sit near Minghao.

"I mean you're surprisingly good with poetry, want to help me write a love song about you?"

"You must be kidding that you're allowing me to do that." Minghao takes the paper, opens the notebook, already writing the words down. "You're insane, Xu Minghao, do you know that?"

"I must be," he means it more than he should.

"So there is no _insane for you_?"

Minghao glares at him for what feels like forever while trying to ignore the blush on his cheeks. Wen Junhui is a son of a bitch. "Don't play with my feelings, you asshole."

"Okay, too soon. I am sorry."

"Definitely too soon."

While Junhui waits as Minghao writes down and connects what they already have from the poem — song, call it whatever — the mood lights up on its own. It is nice to be around Junhui, it has always been. It is certainly hard to ignore the bubbliness in his stomach from time to time, and a part of his brain shouts to him that it's an incredibly bad idea to write poetry to someone _alongside_ said someone, but when he — as he read in a poem once — finally feels like he can be the poetry, not the poet, he thinks it is worth it.

⏩

Three weeks later, Junhui's boyfriend breaks up with him.

Minghao cannot find it within himself to be happy, he feels sick to his stomach to even consider being happy when Junhui cries the shattered pieces of his young heart out, sadness engulfing the totality of their beings.

They cry together, they spend even more time together, they heal each other. At least, weeks go by and Junhui doesn't sob when they go out to get ice cream anymore. Minghao, on the other hand, has never been more in love and more aware of it.

It feels dangerous, he gets happy with the thrill of it with time. 

⏩

_You keep meeting somebody_

_And laugh out loud_

_But nothing changes_

_When I think of you_

_Laughing somewhere_

_I feel like I'm losing_

_I feel like an idiot_

_I rather wish that you were having a rougher time_

_I want you to think of me_

_Because it's hard_

_I want to be okay too_

_I feel my lips dry_

_The lips that used to call you so much_

_I realise then, like a habitual saying_

_That I desperately looked for you as I called for you_

_I want to embrace like I did then_

_And tell you that I want you to smile_

_When I close my eyes and count one and two_

_Before I know it, I am asleep and_

_I look for you in my dream unknowingly_

_I think it is a lie that I want to forget you_

_No_

_Maybe it has become a habit instead_

_I think I want to forget_

_Your name that I am calling again even now_

_I rather wish that you were having a rougher time_

_I want you to think of me_

_Because it's hard_

_I want to be okay too_

_I feel my lips dry_

_The lips that used to call you so much_

_I realise then, like a habitual saying_

_That I desperately looked for you as I called for you_

_I want to embrace like I did then_

_And tell you that I want you to smile_

_I want to tell you that I want to see you_

_Now that you're gone_

_The habit_

_Of calling you_

_I live, unable to erase it_

_Because of you_

_I feel my lips dry_

_The lips that used to call you so much_

_I realise then, like a habitual saying_

_That I desperately looked for you as I called for you_

_I want to embrace like I did then_

_And tell you that I want you to smile_

⏩

There is a familiarity in laying down on the grass of Junhui's garden and watching the way the sky changes throughout the day. Despite all the sorrow they have been through lately, there is always something about his shoulder touching his best friend's that erases every single bad thought daring to come too close to Minghao's mind.

There is something about the way their heads meet little by little in between laughs and the way they don't bother continuing a subject when their conversation is over, as natural as the clouds running marathons above their beings, as natural as Minghao losing himself in between song lyrics and turning his face towards Junhui. He analyses his face, eyes closed, perfectly angled nose, breathing slowly, inviting cotton candy that has Minghao dying to caress and tease the harshness of the bleached strands. 

It is natural when Junhui returns the gaze and Minghao does not avert his eyes. He decides to reach for the pink-ish hair, Junhui smiles to the touch and closes his eyes again, so he keeps his fingers there. 

Too bad is the moment when Minghao's movements don't belong to himself anymore, the hand admiring the beautiful face on its own, stopping so featherly on Junhui's cheekbones. It is lighter than a brush, but he knows the pressure the touch holds when Junhui opens his eyes for the second time. When there is nothing to say, Minghao contemplates his actions. He is moving out for college in three weeks to a place far away from his best friend. Said best friend — soul brother, even — is damn aware of his own feelings. Said best friend has just gotten out of a relationship with the guy he had believed to be the love of his life, but first loves are not made to be eternal, they don't _last_. The first is not meant to be the last, and Minghao thinks he understands that by now, but his fingers still move to caress Junhui's lips. 

He wants to go closer, he wants to be the one touching those lips so tenderly with _his own_ _lips_ instead of his fingers. He doesn't think there was a time when he wanted to kiss Junhui so bad in such an innocent, _naive_ way before. He feels fifteen all over again, only waking up from a dream to find his best friend sleeping by his side, even when he is damn aware his feelings are not reciprocated 

Minghao wakes up from his daydream when he feels a hand touching his arms. He opens his eyes, the ones he didn't notice he had closed, when Junhui holds his wrist and fondles the skin there. He kisses the pad of Minghao's finger and it burns. Minghao holds his breath, if he lets it out, he will wake up. 

Junhui puts the hand where it previously was, above his cheek, without letting go of it. As if deciding it is not enough, he takes it to his lips again, leaving another kiss, and another, and another, and another, so light — each one a promise Minghao can't quite understand for one of the first times in their lives — then he squeezes the hand, taking it near his chest and holding it there. 

"I don't think I can do this, Haohao."

It is expected. Minghao doesn't pretend his mind didn't make him think that maybe, _just maybe_ , Junhui loved him back in a romantic way. Although it hurts, the pain is an old friend, but the air forcefully knocked out of his lungs can't ever ever come back to him. 

_It is not Junnie's fault_ , he reminds himself again and again and a third time. It still hurts the same. 

He clenches his fist, does not move it out of Junhui's warmth, "It is okay, Junnie. Don't worry about me."

Minghao can't do this anymore. He finally decides, he can't keep on breaking like this anymore.

⏩

_I loved how his eyes danced merrily,_

_and the gentle way he spoke;_

_the way he filled my aimless days,_

_with bitterness and hope._

_I loved him as I fell to sleep,_

_and each morning as I woke;_

_I loved him with all my wayward heart—_

_until the day it broke._

_(I Loved Him - Lang Leav)_

⏩

"I _love_ you."

He feels his heart dropping, he feels fifteen again just for a second, until he realises the tone of Junhui's voice — the one he knows so well, the one he can identify the smallest changes of octaves right as they happen — does not match the look in his eyes. He almost laughs, not at Junhui, at _himself._ At least this remains the same. 

"No, Junnie. You don't love me."

He looks at him, "What do you mean I don't love you?"

Minghao _looks_ at him, analyses him, thinks about all the other times they said _I love you_ to each other and remembers how they felt. He is sure Junhui loves him, would never doubt his best friend's love, but they have known each other since they were little kids bonding over a cool skateboard, so Minghao knows all the different kinds of _I love you_ Junhui can say and how they sound like. The way he is saying it right now means _I love you like a brother, like someone I miss, like someone I need to protect_. 

It hurts the most that Junhui knows it too. Minghao has mastered the ability to read right through him and to shut down the EDM style frequency his heart can copy whenever Junhui is around. Maybe he wants his love to be like Minghao's, to sound like it, to love like he is in love all over again, but it doesn't need to be. Minghao can't let himself be the lookalike, it will hurt both of them like it hurts to experience the attempt. 

"Don't lie to me, Junnie. I've seen you when you're in love, I know how your eyes shine when you do, I've seen it before." It sounds way more urgent than he intended it to. "You don't love me like you think you do. Maybe one day you will, we will figure out what to do if it happens. If it makes it better, I love you in the same way you love me, nothing has changed just because I moved away."

If he disagrees, nothing is said. They stare out at the high buildings for a while, the weight of owning a part of this new world feeling too heavy for the first time. "And how do you love me, if you can tell me?"

Minghao sips his juice again, "What answer do you want? The long one or the short one?"

"Go with the long one. I don't know when I will get to hear your voice in person again."

Minghao knows it is true, thinks about how audios and phone calls don't do Junhui's voice any justice. He takes a while to sum up everything he wants to say. "I love you like I loved you when you broke my first bicycle and I love you like I did when you first hugged me. I love you like I loved you when you failed a test for the first time and when I pushed you out of my bed on our first sleepover, I am sure you remember that," they laugh together, it is nice. "But there is a thing, Junnie. I love you like I loved you in between summers and I love you like I loved you when your first love wasn't me. I love you like the sun and the rain even when you hide behind layers of sunscreen and under an umbrella. I love you in every way it is possible to love someone, and I have never blamed you for not being able to love me back in some of those ways. It is okay even now."

He is still a poet, after all, so he spills his feelings using metaphors he is sure he used in one of his poems.

"Even so," he starts, surely thinking and taking time to absorb it all, "if one day I happen to love you in _that_ way," Minghao knew he was right, "will you still be here with yours?"

He sighs, "I will always be here for you, Junnie. It doesn't mean I will wait for you forever. Who knows what will happen throughout the year. I can fall for someone tomorrow during one of my classes, how could I know?"

Junhui smiles, "I will want to know all the details if it happens."

Minghao smiles, happy it all didn't throw him off, "You surely will."

The silence is still comfortable when he turns his gaze to the stars above them again.

⏩

They walk around the dorm area once more, he shows how the campus looks like to Junhui before he goes away again. He is happy they got to experience the tiniest bit of Minghao's new chapter together, he hopes Junhui will visit often. Deep down, he knows he will.

Junhui sends a meme to warn he has arrived home safely after some hours. 

As he sits on his new bed with his new black notebook, the voice inside his head thinks about the question he has been thinking about more than he should. The one he has always been too scared to ask, too _naive_ to ask, the sheerest possibility, hope, _what if_ , what would it be like if Junhui actually happened to have returned his feelings one day, what would happen if he did so in the future. He sends the thought away and grabs the pen.

Minghao sighs. He is scared of the future. 

"and i want to have life as i always wanted

but no idea where to start

who will guide me through 

when i don't know where you are"

But he will manage, he tells himself as he closes his notebook, _he_ _will_ _manage_.

**Author's Note:**

> IT IS DONE! 
> 
> anyways, this is the first story i post after two years without writing! i can honestly spend days talking about everything that made me write this fanfic and how the whole process was, but please know that it was all a big self-projection as everything i write is hehe. i hope i could manage to convey all the feelings i wanted to portray, but in case i did not, i am sure the songs that backed me up while writing can, so here is the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5xs4d7NGhyfXndwYCvbxdC?si=QQAxLM0MSTKUyX-0OyAduw) for this work. 
> 
> after all, if you want to know more about it, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hiraethie) and [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/andythie) . 
> 
> hope you choose to stick around for the things that are yet to come!! thank you so much for reading it! please stay safe!


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